The opening of the solar door sent Braden’s heart pounding. He rushed back into the dark passageway that led to the kitchen, hoping the shadows hid him.

The Earl of Rothton strode out, continuing past the great hall and out of the keep. After waiting several moments, Braden eased toward the solar door again, nerves stretched taut. Unfortunately, he heard nothing nor did anyone else leave.

Frustration filling him, he decided he’d learn nothing other than Rothton had spoken with Graham this even. He kept to the shadows and stepped outside and down the stairs, waiting in the same spot he’d left Ilisa.

With each moment that passed with no sign of her, his worry grew, making it nearly impossible to wait.

Where could she be? Had she found Lady Arabela? Were they still speaking or had something gone amiss?

Alec arrived at his side, breathless. “I’m pleased to see you made it out of the keep,” he whispered. “Where’s Lady Cairstine?”

Trust Alec to remember to use her pretend name.

“She has not yet emerged.”

Alec stared at the keep door, as though by sheer will he could force her out. “Shouldn’t she be finished by now?”

“Aye.” Braden couldn’t take it any longer. Not with worry spiraling through him. “I’ll go look for her. If I don’t return shortly, come in and find me. We’ll come up with some excuse for our presence if need be.”

“How will I know where to find you?” Even in the dim light, Braden could see Alec’s brow furrowed with concern.

Braden recognized it. The same sensation burned in his stomach. The notion that something was wrong had only grown stronger. “You’ll find me. But with luck, I’ll return anon with your sister.” He squeezed the boy’s shoulder. “Have no worries. I won’t leave without her.”

Alec nodded, looking far from relieved. Braden didn’t waste another moment reassuring him. Alec’s fears, along with his own, would be eased once he returned with Ilisa.

Braden ran up the steps once more and opened the heavy wooden door of the keep. This time he turned left toward the side of the keep where the tower was, telling himself to move slowly when he wanted to run to the top of the tower and pound on Lady Arabela’s door.

Moving as silently as possible, he started up the stairs, forcing himself to pay attention as the rushlight at the landing had been extinguished. The irregular steps were a challenge to climb in the dark and slowed his progress.

He reached the first level of the tower, guessing Graham’s chamber was there. He’d continued up several more steps when a soft moan caught his ears, barely louder than a breath.

Yet he knew immediately to whom it belonged.

Ilisa.

He held still, willing his heart to stop thundering in his ears so that he might locate her whereabouts.

There it was again—not merely a moan, but a stilted cry of pain. He knew the sound all too well as he’d heard it too many times. The quiet sound echoed in the tall stone stairwell, confusing him as to its location. It seemed as if it came from below, yet he hadn’t passed her. Where could she be?

He retraced his steps as quickly as he dared, desperate to find her. “Ilisa?”

Only silence greeted his call.

He reached the landing and searched the area, at last finding her crumpled on the floor below the tower steps, her foot twisted at a terrible angle. She didn’t move. Heart pounding painfully, he bent over her, fearing the worst.

“Ilisa?” he whispered, shock causing her name to catch in his throat. With a trembling hand, he reached for her cheek to move aside her hair so that he might better see her face.

“Hell’s blood!” Sir Matthew emerged from the great hall to kneel beside him. “What happened?”

“What is this?” Monroe, the steward, joined them. “Lady Cairstine?”

Braden ignored them both as he guessed at her injuries. She had a broken ankle based on the angle of her foot. A large bump marred her forehead.

What he saw made no sense. If she’d struck her forehead, why was she laying on her back? The details flew from his mind as he focused on her stillness.

He’d heard her moan only moments ago, but that meant little. ’Twas too dark to tell if her chest moved with breath. He bent low to place his ear near her mouth, praying she yet lived.

The faint rush of air that reached him barely counted as a breath, but relief filled him all the same.

“Is she...” Matthew’s unfinished question swamped Braden with unreasonable anger.

He bit back a sharp retort and managed a more reasonable one. “She lives.” He couldn’t help but look up at the stairs, wondering how far she’d fallen and how bad her injuries were. Darkness hid the top of them.

“I’ll fetch a light,” Matthew said then hurried away.

“She must’ve fallen.” Monroe’s tone was full of disbelief. “The stairs are treacherous with no handholds for balance. What a terrible accident.”

“Accident,” Braden repeated, yet he couldn’t help but think that wasn’t what had happened at all.

“I’ll have a chamber prepared for her,” Monroe said as he stared at Ilisa.

The glow of the rushlight that Matthew brought made her face look even paler, the bump on her forehead even larger.

“Nay.” Braden at last moved, fear causing his limbs to feel heavy, his thoughts buried in mist. While he wasn’t certain what to do or how best to aid her, he didn’t want her to remain with the enemy. He wanted her close, where he and Alec could watch over her.

“But—” Sir Matthew began.

“She will be more comfortable in our tent,” he interrupted as he gently touched her cheek.

“Surely you don’t want to move her so far,” Monroe said. “Mayhap at least for the night, she should rest here.”

Braden shook his head. He needed privacy to truly help her. Remaining in the keep would be a terrible mistake. That much he knew.

“Sir Hugh?” The sound of Alec’s trembling voice had Braden turning to face the boy.

“She...fell,” he said, wishing he could tell Alec that he intended to do all in his power to make sure she lived.

“Fell?” Tears filled Alec’s eyes as he stared at his sister.

“We’ll carry her to the tent as carefully as possible.” He stared down at her pale face, the bump on her forehead looking worse by the moment. With effort, he focused on what needed to be done to take her to the tent without doing further harm. “We need a blanket to carry her on and torches to light the way.”

“Sir Hugh, surely it would be best if she spent the night in the keep,” Monroe suggested again.

“Nay.” His gaze caught on Alec’s. “We’ll take her to our tent where we can care for her.”

Alec nodded, keeping his tear-filled gaze on Ilisa, his fear palpable.

“Alec,” Braden ordered, his tone firm, “can you find lights for us?” He couldn’t have the boy falling apart on him. He’d need him in the hours to come.

“Aye.” Alec backed up slowly then spun toward the great hall to do as he was bid.

“A blanket and three or four servants, if you please,” Braden said to Monroe.

Still the steward hesitated. “Her leg is surely broken. Don’t you think it best if—”

Braden stood, done with words. He was not above using his size to intimidate the smaller man. “I need a blanket and several men to aid me.”

“I’ll help,” Sir Matthew offered then glared at the steward. “Can you locate a blanket?”

“Of course,” Monroe said, though his reluctant tone spoke of his disapproval of Braden’s plan. “And I’ll alert others to aid us.”

“Just find a blanket,” Matthew ordered. “I’ll rouse a few men from the great hall.”

Both men left, leaving Braden alone with Ilisa.

He quickly knelt beside her, holding her hand. “Ilisa? Ilisa, can you hear me?” She didn’t answer, but he continued to speak, hoping he was somehow getting through to her. “We will heal you. Have no worries. I’m taking you to safety now. Alec is with me. All will be well.” He lifted her hand to press a kiss on it, hoping she understood.

All will be well, he repeated under his breath, girding himself for the task ahead. He’d never been so grateful for his gift. Without it, he feared Ilisa wouldn’t make it through the night.

He gently lifted Ilisa’s leg to straighten it, hoping the broken bone hadn’t pierced the skin. From experience, he knew that would make healing it all the more difficult. Those details would have to wait until they reached the tent.

Monroe soon returned with the blanket, and Alec with several rushlights. Braden spread the blanket beside Ilisa. Luckily, she remained unconscious. ’Twas for the best. Any movement would cause her great pain let alone being moved all the way to the outer bailey. If they could reach the tent before she woke, he’d be pleased.

Yet as he stared at her pale face, he wished more than anything that she’d open her eyes. Unthinking, he bent low and gently kissed her cheek. “Hold on.”

Matthew returned with four other men. Braden directed them to help shift her to the blanket, holding her head and shoulders himself. Hopefully, the blanket would allow her to sway as they moved rather than be jolted with each step.

Alec held one of the lights, handing the others to two men to hold then hurried ahead to open the keep door.

“Lift,” Braden ordered, pleased when the men did so in unison and with care.

One looked up the stairs then back at Ilisa, shaking his head. His doubtful expression as he stared at her made Braden’s own misgivings return.

If she’d fallen as far as Braden feared...

The thought didn’t bear consideration. He shifted his focus on what needed to be done next.

The keep steps were difficult, and the uneven ground of the inner bailey wasn’t much better. They passed through its gate to the outer bailey, Alec leading the way to the tent. They gently set her on the bed inside.

Braden wanted to yell at everyone to go, his impatience growing by the moment as he feared time was running out.

“Can I help in any way?” Matthew asked, his expression full of concern.

“I’d be pleased to send for the village healer,” Monroe offered, he and Matthew lingering behind the others who filed out of the tent.

Braden nodded. “If she could come on the morrow.” He couldn’t say more than that. Not when worry clutched his chest so tightly, shortening his breath. Both he and Ilisa might be in need of aid come morn. For now, he wanted to see how much he could help her.

“You’re certain you don’t want her assistance now?” Monroe’s question and his doubtful tone implied that by then ’twould be too late.

“Nay.” Braden didn’t offer an explanation, his gaze locked on Ilisa.

“If there’s nothing more we can do...” Matthew’s concerned gaze switched between Braden and Ilisa.

“I’ll send my squire if we have a need.” He nodded at Alec, who continued to hold one of the rushlights, his face pinched with worry. Now leave off. Rather than growl the words, Braden clenched his jaw.

“Very well then.” Monroe backed away, his hands clasped tight before him.

“Please know you’re in our thoughts and prayers.” Matthew placed a hand on Braden’s shoulder briefly then followed the steward out.

Alec set the rushlight in a holder then moved to Braden’s side, his gaze locked on Ilisa. “How far do you think she fell?”

“’Tis difficult to say.” And nothing he wanted to think about as he feared the worst. He sat on the edge of the bed, reaching out to gently smooth her hair.

“Can you...aid her?” Alec looked at him, eyes wide with a mix of hope and fear.

“I’m going to try.” Braden well knew the risk he took by doing so. If her injuries were too severe when he drew the pain from her into his own body, it might prove too much and take his own life. His mother had warned him time and again of the risks of healing anyone severely injured. He’d experienced them himself on one or two occasions and knew how much his energy drained if he did so. Though willing to do that, the idea of Ilisa waking only to find him dead next to her was unacceptable as well.

Did he warn Alec of the risks in case neither he nor Ilisa survived? A glance at him told Braden to keep his thoughts to himself. Alec was so worried already, Braden wouldn’t add to his burden. He just had to make certain he took great care in healing her. If he could attempt it in small doses, one area at a time, mayhap they’d both survive. He didn’t know if he could do it as he hadn’t tried it before.

Braden rose to put his hand on Alec’s shoulder. “Do you understand what I can do?” Between the lame horse and the bird, he was certain the boy had suspicions.

Alec bit his lower lip for a long moment. “I believe you can help her.”

“I’m going to try. Doing so will make me tired as it uses a great deal of my strength.”

“Are you recovered enough to do so?” Alec put his hand over Braden’s. “Will it hurt you?”

Again, Braden hesitated. Yet he didn’t want Alec to be frightened by what he witnessed. “Aye. It will hurt.”

Alec’s gaze swung to his sister, as did Braden’s. “How can I aid you?”

“Keep watch. Make certain no one disturbs us. I don’t think I need to explain why it would be best if no one witnessed what I do or how I do it.”

“Hilda said you come from a family of witches but good ones.” Alec met Braden’s gaze, showing no fear at the idea.

“Did she?” Braden gave a small smile. He should’ve known Hilda would guess the truth. She’d witnessed Garrick having a glimmer of second sight and knew what he was before they’d been introduced to the healer. Braden wondered what his mother would think about being called a good witch. Thoughts of her gave him strength. “Would you prefer to keep watch outside or inside near the entrance?”

“I’ll watch from in here in case you have need of me.”

Alec settled beside the tent flap, peeking out as though to make certain no one lingered nearby.

Braden sat beside Ilisa, calming himself in preparation for what he needed to do. With gentle hands, he smoothed the hair from her forehead, holding his hands around the bump in search of the heat that told him of injuries. His instinct was to heal her head first. If that was unsuccessful, mending broken bones wouldn’t matter.

But he continued running his hands along her body, noting the heat in her forearm, her hip and her leg, all on her left side. So much damage.

When Garrick had nearly been killed in Berwick, neither Garrick nor Chanse had allowed Braden near. Drawing the pain and injuries into himself could cause too much harm. His body couldn’t handle it. Somehow, he needed to find the balance between aiding her and protecting himself.

“Ilisa,” he whispered. “I wish this hadn’t happened. If I knew you were going to be in such danger, I never would’ve allowed you to enter the keep.” He tried to set aside his guilt. Negative emotions would only weigh him down. He knew without a doubt she hadn’t fallen. But now wasn’t the time for such a thought either. Revenge would come later.

He closed his eyes, placing his hands firmly on the bump on her forehead. With a deep breath, he gathered his thoughts before pushing them to the injury. He held them there for a long moment then drew them back, his breath catching with the intensity of the pain that pierced his skull then flooded his body.

Christ. The pain was unbelievable. It stole his vision and stopped all thought. He tried to breathe through it, waiting for it to ease but the intensity continued far longer than he’d expected. A groan escaped his lips, causing him to open his eyes in time to see Alec turn to stare.

He had no strength left to worry about the boy’s reaction. Not when dealing with this much pain. He struggled to draw a deeper breath, and at last the hurt subsided to a dull ache, leaving exhaustion in its place. He looked at Ilisa but she hadn’t moved nor had she wakened.

Unable to do more until he rested, he settled beside her, unwilling to leave her, and closed his eyes as darkness took him.

 

~*~

 

Ilisa woke with a shuddering gasp, shifting only to realize she couldn’t move without a sharp pain stealing her breath. Her entire side throbbed, a piercing ache that made her long to avoid it.

The whimper that escaped her lips surprised her. She glanced about, trying to understand what caused the pain. Where she was. What had happened.

In the tent. That made no sense, but her mind was too riddled with pain to sort through the details.

Images flickered through her mind much like a fluttering candle flame, sputtering with memories even as her mind tried to smother them. The tournament. Braden. Alec. Arabela. The sound of a shoe on the steps behind her.

She swallowed hard, turning her head to find Braden beside her. His face was pale, and shadows marked his eyes. The stillness of his form alarmed her. Was he unwell too?

As she turned her head, a faint pain touched her forehead. She placed a hand there, remembering the terrible hurt of striking her head. She’d thought she was dying with no one the wiser on the cold stone floor.

Or had someone been there? She remembered the sensation of being roughly rolled over as if the person wanted to know if she lived. Whoever it was hadn’t taken care to be gentle.

The questions were too much to consider when a throbbing agony gripped her. She couldn’t think. Couldn’t focus.

She shifted her head once more to find Braden’s eyes open, watching her. He slowly lifted onto his elbow, his movements sluggish. “Ilisa. Thank goodness.”

Tears filled her eyes from the terrible pain. She feared if she tried to speak, she’d only cry. She tried to shift, to find a position that would free her from the sharp pain.

“Hold,” Braden whispered, touching her cheek. “You are badly hurt. Stay still and close your eyes.”

She did as he bid, aware of him sitting up beside her.

“Keep your eyes closed. Take slow breaths if you can.”

She tried but had to clench her teeth at the pain wracking her body.

His hands were warm on her leg just below her knee, so warm. The oddest sensation filled her—as if the pain were centered in one place then drawn out, sharpening in intensity as it was pulled from her leg as though by force.

Then she knew nothing at all.